


Watch Your Back

by Forlorn_Melody



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: F/F, Face-Sitting, Fingering, Oral Sex, Threesome - F/F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-10-24 19:43:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17710400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forlorn_Melody/pseuds/Forlorn_Melody
Summary: The Number One Outlaw on Kadara gives Sara Ryder an offer she doesn't want to refuse. Cassandra Verner, wannabe-outlaw, doesn't mind standing by as witness either.





	Watch Your Back

**Author's Note:**

  * For [joufancyhuh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/joufancyhuh/gifts).



> Happy Valentines Day, Jo.

“I’m not paying your fees.” Sara watches as Sloane rises from her throne. “I don’t need your protection.” Her hand falls to her hip where her pistol lays holstered.

Sloane rolls her eyes. “Of course, you don’t.” She circles Ryder like a shark. “But you need someone to watch your back.” Sara spins around, maintaining a clear view of Sloane. Stepping closer, Sloane whispers, “And I like watching your back.”

“I thought you didn’t like me at all.” Is Sloane suggesting what Sara thinks she’s suggesting?”

“Oh, you’re still useless to me as an Outcast. My people will never accept a Pathfinder. You lot _reek_ of Addison and her cronies.”

“Pot kettle, much?”

“But I can think of a few other uses for you. If you’re interested.” Sloane holds out her hand, in a strange offer of welcome, but Ryder can see her other hand on her gun. _I’m not the only one hedging my bets._

“Oh?” Sara can feel her heartbeat accelerating like a rocket. “And what uses are those?” She has a pretty good idea.

Someone clears her throat behind them. “Uh--should I leave?” Shit. Ryder completely forgot Cassandra Verner was in the room with them. She could have been flanked by now. Maybe coming here without some back up was a bad idea.

Sloan looks over Sara’s shoulder. “Do you want to leave?”

Cassandra shifts from one foot to another. “I thought you called me up for a dance.”

“I called you up here for business.” Sloane rolls her eyes. “This is a business deal.” Ryder snorts. “But I can see why you wouldn’t want to watch the Pathfinder paying me her dues.”

“I haven’t actually agreed to anything yet.” Sara lets her hand hover over Sloane’s open palm, finally acknowledging why exactly Sloane’s rejections have stung so much. “And you haven’t told me what you want.” Cassandra is right about Sloane’s accent. Sloane Kelly could read a fucking omni-tool manual and make it sound sexy. It’s not fair.

Sloane doesn’t touch her, not yet, not without her okay. She does lean closer, speaking close to Sara’s ear. “I want you on your back. I want you eating me out as I ride your face. And then I want to ravish you until you beg me to stop. 

Sara’s mouth hangs open, dry as the sands on Elaaden. She coughs. “That’s quite the offer.”

“Do you accept our bargain, Pathfinder?”

Sara takes her hand, squeezing it. “Yeah. But only if you stop calling me that.”

Sloane smirks. “And what would you like to be called?” Her thumb grazes across the back of her hand, its calloused pad scratching her skin in a way that makes Sara lick her lips.

“Sara or Ryder. Not both.”

Verner clears her throat again. God, Sara has got to stop forgetting she’s watching. Scott would never let her hear the end of it. Not that Scott is ever going to hear about this. “Do you want me to stay, Ryder?”

Sara remembers her disappointment when the cute girl at Tartarus barely notices her--too lost in her aspirations to win the approval of Kadara’s #1 Outlaw. Heat rises to her face as she replies. “If you want to.”

“Now that _that’s_ all settled--Cassandra, have a seat, will you? You’re putting us all on edge.” Sloane looks at Ryder. “As for you…” She shrugs off her jacket, pushing past Ryder to fling it on a nearby table. “I don’t have all day.”

...They’re going to do _it_ in _here_? Sara never took Sloane for the romantic type, but this...not that she’s complaining. She follows Sloane, removing her jacket and scarf. Sloane immediately nabs the both, spreading them out on the table like makeshift linens. “Seriously?”

Sloane pats the table. “I’m not showing you where I sleep. Now get up, would you?”

“Alright.” Maybe not the most comfortable bed, but Ryder can’t help but be thrilled at the notion of being served up on a table. She blushes, but she knows some people have weirder kinks. Getting up on the table, she sits down with her legs bent at the knees and her hands braced behind her, looking down at Sloane expectantly.

Swinging onto the table with one arm, Sloane crawls over to Ryder. She kneels over her, tracing Ryder’s cheek with her thumb. “You still up for this?” Her face is hard, as always, but her words come out surprisingly soft.

Sara swallows, her mouth dry and her voice thick. “I want this.” She looks over at Cassandra. “All of it.”

Then Sloane’s lips are on hers, slow and firm, and the rest of the room disappears in the heat of her touch.

Ryder’s pulled into the singularity of her warmth, swept up in the black holes of her hands, and she loves it. She kisses back hot and hard, like the burning of a star. Her hands wander up and down Sloane’s back, charting a path through her armor and harsh exterior. With each touch she explores her curves and hard lines and maps her scars to memory. Sloane’s body certainly isn’t uncharted space, but for now, it’s Ryder’s, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Sloan’s lips trail down her neck, biting and claiming her skin for her own, conquering what others have touched. Her hand slips up Sara’s shirt, finding her weak spots and exploiting them with relish. Everything about Sloane and her seduction is chaos in the making, and Ryder gives in, gladly relinquishing control.

This is new territory for Ryder, peeling away Sloane’s exoskeleton and exposing what lies beneath. She lies in awe of her tapestry of tattoos--an anchor from her days in the Alliance on her right hip, Remnant patterns on her left breast. Ryder traces the lines, looking up at Sloane curiously, and she shakes her head in reply. Maybe another time. Instead, Sloane guides her hands to colorful sash around her waist. Sara unties it, and Sloane sways her hips until it falls into Ryder’s hands. Maybe Cassandra isn’t the only one who knows her way around a pole.

The moment Ryder’s lips part to ask the question, Sloane presses her index finger to them. Sara grins, kissing her finger, pulling it into her mouth and sucking it suggestively. With a snort, Sloane guides Ryder’s free hand to her waist, undoing her pants and sliding them achingly down her thighs.

“Holy shit.” Cassandra mutters under her breath, and Ryder sputters a laugh, agreeing completely. None of this feels real.

Sloane for her part, has no reaction to being naked in front of them both. Perhaps her armor is just another front for the steel beneath. Ryder follows the jagged edge of one scar until Sloane presses her hands to the table, seizing her lips once again. Their kisses accelerate into deep space, and there isn’t enough oxygen in the world when Sloane pulls back to look into her eyes.

“Ready, Sara?” She asks, rubbing her swollen bottom lip with her index finger.

Ryder swallows. “Please.”

Sloane crawls over her, holding onto the edge of the table, kneeling on either side of her face, slowly inching her thighs wider and wider until Ryder can reach her with her mouth. Breathing in her musk, Ryder shudders, swallowing as she takes one long lick through her soaked underwear.

“Fuck, Sara.”

“Mm,” she hums in agreement, pulling Sloane’s underwear out of the way, and licking her properly. Sloane’s groan melts through them both like molten rock, and Ryder finds herself gripping Sloane’s hips to keep herself steady. She relishes in her goosebumps, in the way her body shakes at her touch. Distantly she hears the slick of Cassandra’s fingers moving in time with them, and fuck, she never expected to find that so hot.

As Sloane’s cries grow louder and louder, and her movements less steady, Ryder grins against her slippery skin. She sucks on her clit, gentle, then harder as Sloane’s swears veer into gibberish, and her thighs finally slip away from her face. Sloane collapses in a heap next to her, staring at her breathlessly. “Who the fuck taught you that?”

Licking her own lips and wiping her chin, Ryder snickers. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Sloane groans. “They’re 600 years dead, aren’t they.”

Sara sits up. “Don’t be such a buzz kill. I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“Mm. Indeed you are.” Sloane rolls over, looking her up and down slowly, like she’s scrutinizing a trade. “And with far too many clothes. Off with them if you want me to touch you.”

“Fine, fine.” Ryder rolls her eyes playfully, wrestling her way out of her thermal. By the time it’s finally off, the Pathfinder’s hair has frizzed out in all directions.

 Sloane smooths those hairs back into place before either of them realize what she’s doing. She swallows, pulling her hand back. “You want that bra on or off?”

Something about that accidental gesture sends Ryder’s heart racing all over again. Feeling bold, she replies, “Maybe I want you to take it off me.”

“Are you ordering me around?” Sloane’s eyes narrow as she frowns.

Sara trails a finger down Sloane’s spine. “It’s not an order; it’s a request.”

“Mm.” Sloane mirrors her, trailing her finger from Ryder’s throat to between her breasts. Suddenly Sara’s wishing she wore one of her nicer bras. She definitely wasn’t expecting to get _this_ lucky. And then Sloane’s mouth is on her throat, silencing her self-consciousness, as her hands wind expertly around her chest. Sara doesn’t even realize the bra is off until Sloane pulls back and she feels the air stir her nipples.

“Holy shit.” Sara and Cassandra say together.

Sloane eyes her, inspecting her with her gaze and her touch, taking her time as she works her way down her body. Ryder finds it sexier than she expected, and she fights the urge to squirm, itching to be touched down _there_.

Then Sloane’s finger finds the button of her pants, and she hooks her finger behind it, tugging gently. “Did you want these off, too?”

Ryder gulps down her moan. “God, yes.”

“Make me do all the work. I see how it is.” Sloane pops the button open as easy as popping a can of soda. How much practice has she had? And was that Sloane’s version of a jo--?

Sara moans sharply as Sloane’s hand dives beneath her pants, caressing her already soaked underwear. Her hips rock into her touch--she can’t help but chase that sensation.

“You really get off on this, don’t you, Sara?” Sloane’s breath stirs the hair around her ear, and by the sound of Cassandra’s groan, she must be looking at the dancer as her fingers completely undo the pathfinder beneath her. Grazing her teeth on Ryder’s ear, she continues. “I wonder what the Nexus would say if they knew what drove you wild, _who_ drove you wild.”

Ryder snorts breathlessly. “You’d never tell. You’d have to talk to them to do that.”

“As if they haven’t already blocked my signal.” Sloane pulls her hand away, and Sara fights the urge to beg. But she doesn’t have long to struggle as Sloane’s hands yank her pants down her hips to her ankles. Yeah. She’s definitely had a lot of practice.

“Have you actually tried?”

Sloane doesn’t answer, pushing aside the drenched fabric with one hand, and hooking two fingers inside her with the other. She smirks down at Ryder, watching her melt. Capturing her lips, she drinks in her moans, as her fingers slip and twist in and out of her in a way that should be banned in four outposts. When Ryder’s thighs clench around her touch, Sloane doesn’t stop.

Ryder swears, and then she moans, shaking with release as Sloane works her through until she’s crying her name again and again. The world flares white hot, and Ryder doesn’t realize Sloane’s stopped until she opens her eyes and finds her watching over her with a smug grin.

“Enjoy yourself, Ryder?” Sloane offers Sara her fingers, still slick with her juices.

“Fuck yes.” Ryder accepts them eagerly, licking them clean. She should make deals with Sloane more often. Already she’s dreaming up more excuses to come up here. Border negotiations? Trade deals? Security concerns?

A sharp, gasping moan interrupts their reverie, and both Ryder and Sloane look over to see Cassandra on all fours on the ground, riding her own hand.

“Someone’s enjoying herself.” Sara says quietly, so only Sloane can hear. Not that Cassandra Verner would notice either way, with the state she’s in.

“Do you think she’s content to take care of that on her own?” Sloane’s gaze meanders between them both.

Sara bites her grin. “Three’s always better than one.”

Sloane snickers, waiting until Verner comes back to herself, panting and slumping on the floor. “Oi! Verner! You want some help with that greedy cunt of yours?”

Cassandra nearly jumps out of her skin. “Is that an order?”

Both Sloane Kelly and Sara Ryder respond at once as they hop off the table. “It’s a request.”


End file.
